Night in Storybrooke
by teecee9999
Summary: A doctor who is travelling to see his estranged brother sparks with an unhappily married woman at Storybrooke inn.
1. Chapter 1

Okay this is a take on a Nicholas Sparks Book/Movie. Will be slightly different then both but same plot lines really. If you haven't read or seen it I suggest you do afterwards because SPOILERS! Anyway this is me getting back into writing and borrowing an authors idea and writing it Captain Swan Style. I won't say which Sparks film/novel it is but it will be fairly obvious if you have seen it before. Anyway this is a start. Henry is 26 in the first chapter and it is 2016, this will mainly be set in 1990. Will be rated T but if there is smut (haven't decided yet) I will announce in that chapter where it is. Hope you enjoy. It is a mix between Killian and Emma's point of view. Starting with a small chapter from Emma's. Hope you enjoy.

Chapter 1.

New York 2016.

Emma was lounging in the kitchen with an unopened bottle of rum, his favourite she thought, when she heard the tell-tale signs of the front door being opened. Henry soon had emerged around the corner and came to a halt when he saw the state of his mum.

"Mom?"

Emma moved a box she had been fiddling with onto the kitchen counter. "Come take a seat," she said.

When Henry reached his mother he noticed the box on the counter and half a glass of rum his mother had obviously been drinking.

"Are you alright? What's going on?" Henry asked.

Emma gave a sad smile, she had been keeping this from Henry for far too long. He always believed in honesty and trust. He was all grown up, and it was difficult for her not to still see him as the small boy who was afraid of the dark.

"I wanted to talk to you about something," Emma said.

"About what?"

Instead of giving Henry an answer she motioned for him to sit down.

Henry sat down at the table. Emma reached out for Henry's hand. Without saying anything she squeezed his hand before letting go. She looked out the window with a far off gaze. Henry knew not to push his mother into talking, so that sat in silence.

After what seemed like a few hours Emma turned to Henry again "I'm going to tell you something that happened sixteen years ago," as she started to fiddle with the box on the counter.

In the familiar kitchen, they both sat as Emma began to tell her son exactly what happened sixteen years ago.

This chapter is short I know and I am sorry, but it is just the beginning, just to get myself back into the groove of writing again. Killian will be in the next chapter I promise


	2. Chapter 2

Granny's Inn is separate from the diner and a bit further away from town, it is on the beach. Hope you guys don't mind. Any questions feel free to ask. I do not own the characters or the main plot, just joining the two with different writing.

Chapter 2.

Storybrooke 1990.

It was a gloomy day, the sky was grey and the storm clouds were rolling in as Killian Jones left his attorneys office. Pulling on his leather jacket, he walked through the light drizzle of rain towards his motorcycle, the Jolly Roger. As he mounted his bike, he thought back on the past couple years and he has just formally ended it with his signature on a piece of paper.

It was mid-January in 1990, and in the past month Killian had managed to sell off both of his cars, his medical practice and he had just finished his final meeting with his attorney to sell his home. Well, what he thought would be his home. All he had left was his Jolly Roger, something he just could never part with.

He thought he would have been miserable to sell his house, but as he started his bike, he realised that he didn't feel much of anything, other than the sense of finality of everything. Earlier that morning, when he was still the owner of his home, he had wandered room by room for the last time. He had hoped that it would bring up some happy memories. He had thought of the first time Milah and he had walked over the terrace, a newlywed couple, happy in love. Or how on a raining day they would cuddle in front of the fireplace and just listen to the rain pattering around them and the fire crackling away, keeping them safe and warm.

But as he travelled around the house, slowly taking in every room, no memories sprang to life. He realised then that this was no his home, just a house, an empty shell, and he wander for the millionth time over why he had stayed for as long as he did.

Killian turned into traffic and made his way onto the interstate, avoiding the rush of the commuters from the suburb. After a while of driving, he turned onto the highway, leaving New York behind him and heading towards Maine. He had a small duffel bag stuffed into his motorbike seat and that was all he needed for now. Until he figured out what to do.

As Killian rode past all the small towns and suburbs along the way to Maine, he started remembering what it was like to grow up in those small suburbs. His Dad had left when he was younger, and all he had was his brother, and dying Mother. When Liam finished school, Killian was still only 12, and their Mother had passed away slowly one night.

Pulling over to small rest stop, Killian grabbed himself some coffee, black, and a bite to eat. As he sat their eating away into his sandwich he thought back on the long journey he had gone through. After his Mother had died, Liam had become a father figure, all while still being an amazing brother. It was never easy for them. Often Liam had 3 jobs going and Killian when he hit the right age also started working. Liam had been saving to buy a boating business in New York, and a few years down the track was successful. While Killian loved the ocean, he didn't want someone to die like his Mother had, so he worked his way through school to become the best doctor he could be. At college he went to class, did his lab-work and studied until early hours of the morning. He ran five miles a day and always timed his runs, trying to improve with each passing year. He was introduced to Milah during the second year, she was older, much older, with a husband and child. But she wanted an escape from that life. And after a year passed, and a divorce filed, they both eloped. With no fancy reception or honeymoon, Killian being too busy working or studying, they had begun their life together.

Killian had drifted away from Liam, always too busy for him or his wife. Eventually regular calls, become monthly, then yearly. Soon enough they both didn't know where the other was in the world or how they were going. Killian worked 90 hour weeks with little sleep, never though did Killian tire of helping others. He had become one of the finest surgeons in New York. His practice boomed, his income multiplied, and he started to accumulate things. A few sports cars here and there, the Jolly Roger. Milah was able to build her dream home, they had money to buy anything they wanted. Everything was good until he hit his 28th birthday. Liam had surprised him with a visit. It ended in fighting and screaming match between them. Liam said he needed to spend more time with family as family is important. But Killian not wanting to be poor like they were growing up would still work and never spend time with his family. By the end of last year, when Killian was 29, he had been divorced from his wife and has never seen his brother since his 28th.

Now at 30, all Killian had was his motorcycle. Finishing his coffee, he hoped back onto his bike and sped down the freeway, a couple hours had past and he was now entering Storybrooke. Storybrooke, was an empty town. It was quite and away from the world, which is one of the reasons Killian had decided to visit, the other reason weighing heavy in his leather jacket pocket.

He pulled up to the Inn located on the beach of Storybrooke. It was an aging Victorian house, with a very welcoming front porch. One the railings there were potted buttercups in full bloom, making the Inn look very quaint.

He hoped off his bike and grabbed his gear, slinging the bags around his shoulders before walking up the steps into the small Inn. The floor was heart pine, old with many travellers coming and going. On his left was a small little sitting room, brightly lit by the two large windows that framed a fireplace, making the whole room look cosy. There was a faint smell of cinnamon lingering in the air, as well as a plate of cookies waiting on the reception desk.

When he arrived at the small desk for check in, no one was there. In the corner of his eye, he spotted the room keys; attached to them were adorable little key chains. He rang the bell, requesting for service.

He waited, then rang again, and this time he heard what sounded like muffled crying coming from somewhere further in the house. Dropping his bags on the ground he headed towards the noise, he passed a kitchen with groceries left unpacked on a table. The back door was open, beckoning him to it, and the porch creaked as he stepped outside. There were a few rocking chairs and a small table to the right of him, making a nice place to sit and read while watching the beach. But to his left he discovered what was making the mysterious noise from before.

She was standing in the corner of the deck, overlooking the beautiful ocean before her. She was wearing a pair of faded jeans and boots, but was enveloped in a white turtle neck, a red leather jacket fashionably worn over it. Her blonde curls were sprawled down her back moving in the wind. He watched as she turned his way, startled at the sound of his boots on the floorboards.

Killian glanced away, only to have his eyes be drawn back to her again. Even though she had evidently been crying, he could tell that she was pretty, but there was something in her green eyes that told him she didn't believe she was. She looked as lost as he was. And that, he would always think when looking back on this moment, had only served to make her more appealing.


End file.
